


love in the 21st century

by percybysshes (kitmarlowed)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Accidental Sex-Tapes, M/M, Semi-established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:59:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitmarlowed/pseuds/percybysshes
Summary: He wakes up the computer and starts the download. It says it’s three hours long which it shouldn’t be. Anyway, it’s a pretty quick download, and he flicks through it until he reaches what he’d thought was the end. He sees himself reach for the off button, hears the fumble of his fingers around it but the camera stays on.For a moment he thinks about waking Phil for this, but he decides against it. Maybe he’ll just delete it. But it’s playing now, he adjusts the volume and sits, rigid, waiting for what he knows he’s going to see.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icarxs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarxs/gifts).



> this is entirely [icarxs's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/icarxs)fault

Phil’s room has been quiet for about an hour when Dan finally rolls off his bed to his desk. It’s his turn to edit the Dan Vs Phil, the camera is blinking sleepily at him, plugged in and charging. It’d been flat when he’d checked it after lunch, he’d presumed it had turned itself back on when he took it down from the tripod in the living room.

He wakes up the computer and starts the download. It says it’s three hours long which it shouldn’t be. It’s a pretty quick download, anyway, and he flicks through it until he reaches what he’d thought was the end. He sees himself reach for the off button, hears the fumble of his fingers around it but the camera stays on.

For a moment he thinks about waking Phil for this, but he decides against it. Maybe he’ll just delete it. But it’s playing now, he adjusts the volume and sits, rigid, waiting for what he knows he’s going to see.

The Dan on the screen smirks slightly and pushes Phil, still holding the board like a proud mother, onto the sofa. Phil squawks and says, “You’re such a sore loser,” sliding the board onto the floor and stretching out into a sprawl. He catches Dan’s wrist as he passes. “I won,” he says, still grinning, and Dan remembers how bright his eyes had been when he’d looked down and tried to tug his hand back. “Say you’re proud of me.”

Dan watches himself roll his eyes. “Congratulations,” he says with a sigh, and did he really sound that petulant, no wonder Phil narrows his eyes and pulls him down.

He watches himself shift, careful, he’d been wanting it all day, wound tight and waiting, but not wanting to make it so obvious to Phil. But Phil had noticed, of course he had, he’d rolled his sleeves up a bit, making his arms look… well.

Phil gets a hand under Dan’s sweatshirt and he feels the touch as if it’s there now, sense-memory. His face is warm, he knows what’s going to happen and he prays to God that Phil doesn’t wake up now, doesn’t knock on his door to see how the editing’s going. He’s never blessed Phil’s normal human sleep pattern this much before as he watches the Phil on the screen flip them over, straddling Dan and smiling as he takes both their ridiculous hats off.

“Sit,” Phil murmurs on screen and Dan watches himself comply, leaning back on the sofa whilst Phil clambers off him and walks off screen. The frame goes dark and then adjusts, their living room curtains aren’t blackout and there’s a sliver of white winter light just above Dan’s head.

He remembers leaning over the back of the sofa to get the blanket, because suede is a bitch to clean and he’d known what was coming, the anticipation settles in Dan’s gut as he watches the same happen to himself on screen. It’s not the first time they’ve done this.

Phil comes back and kneels over him, bracketing Dan’s hips with his thighs. He pushes up Dan’s sweatshirt and Dan watches as he shivers, does the same as he remembers how good it has felt. How oversensitised he’d been, already warm with the vague effort from the Switch game. He watches himself jump as Phil’s hands brushed his nipples, his mouth is slightly open, he looks obscene.

Dan pauses the video just as Phil is drawing his sweater up and over is head. He really should delete it, doesn’t really want to own up to the fact that they now have for all intents and purposes a sex-tape. But he’s fascinated, presses play again without meaning to, bites his lip as the Dan on screen throws his sweater on the floor and reaches for the buttons of Phil’s shirt. He gets his hands grabbed for his trouble, and Phil leans down to pin them against the cushions at his head. “Stay,” Phil says, low and _fuck_ Dan’s half-hard already, knows that the version of him in the video is already fully there, straining against his skinny jeans.

On the screen Phil peppers kisses down Dan’s throat and chest, pausing to nip and mouth at Dan’s nipples. Dan hadn’t known he flushed so readily, thought that was more Phil’s game, can’t believe he’s ever looked so. Like that. He gasps in time with himself as Phil bites again, watches himself arch off the sofa, bucking against Phil’s hips and biting out a quiet, barely caught curse.

He remembers how torturous it had been, with Phil just taking his time, fully clothed, with Dan shirtless beneath him, not letting him touch back. He remembers how he’d almost come right there when Phil had slid down the zipper on his jeans and got a hand around him. Phil had brought his hand away as Dan gasped with, he hears it again on the video, a wry little laugh and a murmur of “Nope. Not yet. To the victor, the spoils,” which hadn’t helped matters when said low and filthy in his ear. “Be good for me, I’ve earned it.”

Dan always laughs at shitty dialogue in porn, he can’t help it they’re funny, and he knows that that’s a terrible line but he shivers at it, hearing it again and watching the effect it had had on him on screen. The Dan on screen fists his hands in the cushions then abandons that and drags them through his own hair as Phil pulls his jeans and boxers down. He wiggles to let Phil take them fully off and they join his sweater on the floor. He pauses the video again.

Phil’s looking at him like he’s starving, like Dan’s beautiful, stretched out in a long white line of skin and there are red marks on his chest, half-formed blood bruises. Dan hovers a hand over where he knows one is, clicks play and presses down on the bruise in time and bites his lip to stifle himself as the Phil on the screen leans down and kisses the Dan on the screen, still fully-clothed.

He can feel Phil’s hands roaming even as he watches it, and he knows, he remembers, exactly what Phil does next, remembers how loudly he’d moaned as he’d done it. On the screen Phil grabs at him, curls a hand around his dick and Dan presses the bruise again as he sees how red he is, dark and hard and throbbing. Phil runs his thumb over the slit, bringing his other hand up to Dan’s mouth and willingly, pliant and yielding, the Dan on the screen sucks them in.

They look like all the twink porn he’s ever watched, with Phil still just straddling him, working him over with his hand whilst Dan sucks on his fingers. The flush has almost taken over his whole chest now, working down from his neck and up from his dick to meet in the middle. Phil pulls his fingers out of Dan’s mouth and shifts, moving his legs between Dan’s and wrapping Dan’s around his waist, angling him up.

Dan’s breath catches in his throat in the pause that follows, as the Dan on screen just looks at Phil. He hadn’t meant to look like that, hadn’t intended to look up with such naked, lost, _want_. At Phil’s unspoken question Dan’s nodding his head and Phil’s pressing a finger into him, one quickly joined by another and Dan sounds so wrecked, so overwhelmed as he presses his head back into the cushions and arches his back off the sofa. The angle change sends a jolt of pleasure that Dan remembers and can _watch_ travel up his spine. On the screen he brings his arms up, leans forward blindly until he finds Phil’s still denim-clad thighs and squeezes. He’d been so close, torn between the sensations of Phil’s fingers inside him and his hand around his dick, so too much and not enough.

“Fuck,” Phil breathes, and through the headphones it sounds so much clearer than Dan remembers it, without his own pulse thudding in his ears. “Dan, be good for me. Want you to-“

The wrecked, “God, _please_.” is all Dan needs to hit pause again. To get his own breathing under control and calm down. His currently neglected dick is hard again, and he presses the heel of his hand against it through his jeans just for the friction to go away a bit. He can’t believe he’s here, watching himself getting finger-fucked by his best friend on their living room sofa. He can’t believe he’s still watching, how deeply he understands sex-tapes now in a way he never has before. How hot it is to watch yourself, hear the sounds you make. He unzips his jeans, just barely touches himself, lets his hand rest there in between the denim and his boxers, as he pressed play again.

After ‘God, please’ Phil pulls out his fingers, drawing a whine out of Dan as he goes, and reaches up and over him, fumbling in the cupboard and returning victorious. He puts the bottle down deliberately, so the cool smooth side of it rests against the inside of Dan’s thigh, a torturous implication of what’s to come. On screen Dan tilts his head, watching with hazy eyes as Phil unbuttons his shirt and tosses it down. He moves his hands to help Phil at his zipper to try and get a hand around Phil’s dick, smiles as Phil bats them away, lifts himself up to tug his jeans down around his knees.

The Phil on screen leans down to kiss Dan again, wet and desperate, and Dan takes a breath of anticipation, slides his hand underneath his boxers. He watches Phil tug him up to rest higher on his thighs, watches him grab the lube and drip enough over himself as on screen Dan closes his eyes. He times it well, squeezes himself as on screen Phil starts pushing in. He remembers the quick flash of hurt before the stretch and burn and _good_ as Phil kept going.

Dan watches his own eyes fly open, his breathing stutter as he gasps and moans. Hands back at Phil’s thighs, grasping and slipping, unable to grip properly.

“Fuck,” Phil sighs, sliding home. “So good, so good just for me,” and on screen Dan writhes, taps Phil’s thighs and bites out, “move,” and “ _God_ ,” and “come on.” His own voice is darker than he’s ever heard it, rich and wrecked and desperate as on screen he tries to shift his own hips and get Phil to move.

He does move, eventually, after he makes Dan beg: a ‘please’ all it takes for Phil to begin, drawing out and in, fast at some points and then slow and languorous. No rhythm Dan could match, no pattern, just maddening thrusts and pulls and Phil’s hands over his skin and lips at his when he had no coordination to kiss back. Too busy being steadily taken apart.

Dan’s so hard at the memory, at seeing himself like this, at seeing the concentration on Phil’s face properly now when at the time he’d been too distracted to notice. He brings himself to the edge almost in time with the video, comes in his jeans biting down on his other hand just as on screen he comes with a cry between their bodies, untouched.

Phil isn’t too long after him, his thrusts turn even more staccato, more frantic as Dan stills, exhausted. Phil bends down to pull Dan up with him, kisses him and comes inside him with a grunt and one last jerk upwards. He brushes his hair from his eyes and does the same for Dan, laughs at the curls.

“Hey,” he says and on screen Dan moans, collapsing against him, saying, “You win, again.”

The camera must have died then, the footage cutting out on Phil’s delighted laugh and Dan’s faux-begrudging smile against his neck, the both of them still joined.

Dan pushes his chair back, wipes his hand on his boxers and tidies himself up. He can feel his heartbeat everywhere.

He cuts the footage, drags the Dan v Phil to where it should be and hesitates over the rest. He knows he can’t delete it, that’s for sure. Fumbles around under his desk for a flashdrive, copies it across and ejects it, throwing it onto his bed. He drags the footage to the trash, empties it because he knows he’ll forget to and that would be the day that Phil gets curious or nosy.

Dan knows he has to tell Phil at some point, probably, but for now he flops on the bed, hides the drive in his bedside table.

He’ll edit the Dan Vs Phil tomorrow.

 


End file.
